TLC
by EricsValkyrie
Summary: Set at the end of Intervention (S5). What if Buffy decided Spike deserved a little TLC after keeping her secret from Glory?


Set at the end of Intervention. What if Buffy decided Spike deserved a little TLC after keeping her secret from Glory? Some dialog borrowed from that episode, all credit goes to the show's fantastic writers.

As always the characters and universe belong to Mutant Enemy, no infringement intended. *******************************

"The robot is gone. The robot was gross and obscene." Buffy turned to leave the crypt, but stopped him without turning around when he started to mumble some excuse. "Don't! That thing wasn't even real. What you did for me and Dawn, that was real. I won't forget it."

Having reached the door, she glanced back since he hadn't responded. She found him staring at her, his face so battered she couldn't decipher his expression. She shifted uncomfortably then said, "Get better. I'll need your help to take her down."

"Yeah." Spike murmured as he laid back down. Buffy could tell from his wincing that every movement was painful. "Give me a couple of weeks and I'll be right as rain."

Buffy was halfway out the door and stopped, spinning to face him. "A couple of weeks? But Glory knows the key is a person. She's bound to come after us sooner than that."

Spike started to cover his eyes with his forearm then hissed in pain at the contact and lowered it to his side. "Sorry pet, doubt I'll even be up to going out and buying more blood for a couple of days. That'll help a bit."

"You're out of blood?" he gave a slight nod. "Okay, I'll go to the butcher for you. Pig okay?"

He didn't answer, having fallen into an exhausted sleep. She quietly closed the crypt door behind her.

She stopped by the Magic Box on her way to the butcher. Everyone looked up when the bell rang. Dawn jumped up and ran to her.

"What did he say? Was he fooled? Are we okay?"

"It's okay Dawn, Spike didn't tell Glory."

"Why not? I mean good, but are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. He was pretty emphatic and he still thought I was the bot at the time." she slumped down onto the stairs leading up to the restricted area.

"Did Captain Peroxide say why he didn't give you up?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, he did." She said absently looking at her fingers fidgeting in her lap.

"So?" he pressed.

"So what?" she asked, too deep in thought to follow the train of his questions.

"So what reason did he give for keeping your secret despite the beating Glory gave him?"

"Oh, that what." she said distractedly but didn't continue.

Giles stood and took off his glasses. "Buffy are you all right?"

"Hunh?" her eyes flickered up to him as she tried to focus. "Oh, yeah, fine."

"Buffy, what did Spike say? What was his reason for keeping the truth from Glory, especially after the torments she must have put him through?"

"He gave a reason and I believe him okay?" She launched herself to her feet and paced away. Out of her peripheral vision she could see her friends looking nervously at each other. Finally Dawn walked up and stood in front of her.

"Buffy, it's important, we need to know, what did Spike say that has you so freaked?"

"Just ...he said he couldn't bear it to see me in as much pain as I would be in if anything happened to you. He said he would have let Glory kill him first. Okay?" She turned away from them again so she could think. He really meant that, he thought he was talking to the bot so why bother to lie? It would worship him no matter what he did.

"Pfft." Xander mocked. "He's still trying to convince you he loves you and you're buying it."

"Look, I'm not buying anything except I'm sure he _thinks_ he loves me. Maybe comes as close to it as someone without a soul can. But whatever, you said so yourself he was so thrashed. That has to count for something and he deserves more than just being dumped half-dead...er in his crypt." She said angrily, then turned to the two witches. "Willow, Tara, can Dawn stay with you two again tonight?"

Willow stood. "Sure Buffy, what's up?"

"Spike's out of blood and he'll heal faster if I get some for him. It's the least I can do. Besides I have a feeling we're going to need him in any fight against Glory."

Giles shook his head and walked up to her. "Buffy, let Xander or I take Spike the blood. Dawn needs you."

"No. If Glory is still having us watched it's actually better if I don't hover over Dawn. If I look too protective it might tip them off." She motioned towards her best friend. "Plus they have the magic defenses and can beef them up if they need to."

Willow and Tara nodded in agreement. Giles shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Buffy, I really don't think you should be distracted by Spike right now..."

"Giles, it's okay." Dawn spoke up. "Buffy's right. If Spike did let Glory torture him for me, for Buffy, then she should get him the blood. I'll be fine at witch central."

Buffy smiled at her, grateful for the back-up. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

"Totally. I'll be good with the gals."

"Thanks." The sisters shared a quick hug. "Okay, I'll head back home when I'm done. Gather here tomorrow?" Everyone nodded as she scanned the room. She left quickly because she could tell that neither Xander nor Giles were happy about the situation and if she stuck around they would try to convince her to abandon Spike to his wounds.

Thirty minutes later Buffy was quietly opening the door to Spike's crypt. He didn't stir, in fact it looked like he had not moved at all.

Trying not to wake him, she set down her backpack and started to unpack it. She put aside the thermos of blood, having stopped at home to heat it, change clothes, and pick up a few things. She pulled out some pillar candles and lit them. She knew Spike could see perfectly well in the dark and though her night vision was better than most people's, she couldn't. Standing, she placed one on either side of his head and gasped. He looked worse now. Bruises were darkening around all the cuts and contusions on his face and the flickering candle light accentuated the swelling.

Crouching again, she pulled out a first aid kit, a few washcloths and a towel. Finally she worked a bowl free. She took the bowl outside to a spigot she knew was nearby. "I know these cemeteries way too well." she muttered to herself as she filled the bowl. The trip back took longer, as she took smaller steps to keep the water from sloshing out. Putting the bowl down on the floor she closed the crypt door, wedging a piece of wood under it in case Glory's minions came back.

She winced when she submerged the washcloth. The water was very cold but it couldn't be helped. Straightening after wringing the excess water out she looked him over and decided to start on his face.

The washcloth barely contacted his skin when his arm shot up and grabbed her wrist. He opened one eye and looked like he was ready to kill then his expression softened.

"Buffy?" he asked in disbelief, releasing her wrist.

"It's me." she acknowledged with a weak smile. "I was hoping not to wake you."

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be watching over..." Buffy covered his mouth with her hand.

She whispered. "I don't think they can get in but that doesn't mean that Glory's hobbits aren't listening. No mentioning any names okay?" He gave a quick nod and she brought her hand down. "I brought you some blood."

She bent down and picked up the thermos. Pouring some into the lid. "I hope it's still warm enough. No, don't sit, just lift your head a bit."

She held the cup as she put one hand behind his back to help him. He drank, looking at her from the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. He seemed to be trying to decide if she had gone crazy or if he were dreaming. Once the cup was drained she eased him back down.

"Let me pour you some more." she offered reaching for the thermos.

"No, that's good for now." He grabbed her hand again as she reached for the washcloth. "You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do. I meant what I said. What you did for me today. That was real. I couldn't very well leave you lying here all bloodied when you got that way for me." She shook her hand free and gingerly wiped at the cut over his eye.

"I didn't do it so you'd owe me or feel sorry for me." He tried to sit up but she pushed him down.

"I know. I know why you did it, to spare me the pain of Glory finding out who the key is. And I know it's because..." she couldn't bring herself to say, to actually acknowledge, that he loved her. Even though she was starting to doubt her belief that you couldn't love without a soul. "...of how you think you feel about me. But I couldn't leave you here in pain by yourself. It wouldn't be right."

He still stopped her hand when she tried again to reach his wounds. "Never been clear on the whole right/wrong thing, but I don't want you doing this because you think you have to."

She pinned his arm down and glared at him. "Spike, I want to do this and I'm going to do this. The only question is are you going to be conscious or do I have to knock you out?"

"Fine! Suit yourself." he growled then muttered, "All the bedside manner of a rabid gorilla."

She rolled her eyes at his petulance and dabbed at the cut over his eye. She was able to clean off the surface bits of dried blood quickly but when she pressed harder to thoroughly clean the wound he grabbed her hand again.

"Ow! Bloody hell woman! You can't scrub the cut away you know!"

"Can you be more of a baby?" She asked, wresting her hand away. "I should have just knocked you out."

"I've got a better idea." He pointed behind her. "Over there, on the other side of the chair."

She dropped the cloth into the bowl and brought a candle to light her way. She walked the short distance and picked up the bottle she found there. "This?" she held up the bottle of whiskey. "To sterilize the wounds?"

"No, for me to drink while you channel your inner Torquemada."

"Who?" she asked as she walked back.

"Just give me the whiskey." He was propped up on one elbow and reaching for the bottle.

"Here." she handed it to him and retrieved the washcloth. He was holding out the open bottle to her when she straightened. "What?"

"Ladies first."

"No thanks. Alcohol and I have a pretty bad history."

He took a long swig and recapped the bottle before lying back down. "That sound like an interesting story."

"Not for this town." She started cleaning the wound again. He didn't cry out, but she could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that it hurt. The silence was nerve wracking. She started talking just to end it.

"So" she began, her voice in the silence clearly startled him. "Not too long after you came to town, Cordy talked me into going to a frat party."

"Really?" he scoffed. "You were such a virginal, little goody two shoes."

"Yeah, but Giles was really riding me about my duty as a Slayer – sacred birthright, long line of chosen ones, yada-yada. And Angel was being all aloof and stand-offish because I was so young and naïve that I just...rebelled."

"Now you're playing my song." He smiled slightly. "So what happened? You get drunk and throw-up on your party shoes?"

"Nope, I had one little drink, but it was drugged and I woke up chained to a wall about to be sacrificed to some snake demon."

"Could have been worse." he observed.

"Oh?"

"Unless you fancy being an unconscious sex toy for a bunch of college boys."

"I hadn't though of that. Demons I can kill."

"Everyone has one bad experience, most people don't go on the wagon over it."

She rinsed out the washcloth. "Close your eyes." she ordered, and began carefully wiping the blood from his eyelid and lashes. How did she never notice how long they were? She shook her head. No, she didn't care about how long his eyelashes were. She began talking again to keep her mind off his lashes, and his sculpted cheekbones.

"Then there was the magic beer."

"Magic beer? That sounds like fun."

"Not really, unless you fancy turning into a neanderthal." she used his expression and tried to copy his accent.

He pushed her hand away and looked at her.

"Come again?"

"I know my accent sucks."

"No...well yeah, it does. But a neanderthal?"

"Yep – cave Buffy. Fingerpainting on the dorm room wall, hitting people with clubs, pounding on my chest, the whole nine yards."

"Sorry I missed that." his eye twinkling with laughter.

"I'm sure." She caught herself smiling in reaction to his smile. She bent quickly and picked up the water bowl. "I'm going to get some clean water. I'll be right back."

She hurried outside without looking at him. Once the door was closed she started muttering to herself. "Oh my god, what's the matter with me? Since when do I notice Spike's eyelashes, or his anything? And smiling when he smiles? When did that start?" But she knew, she could no longer think of him as just some evil thing, not after what he let himself be put through, what he was willing to sacrifice. "Okay fine." she argued with the voice of reason in her head. "But that doesn't mean I'm falling for Spike. I'm just being nice. He deserves it after that. Even if he did it because he thinks he loves me." She was wringing out the washcloth under the spigot and realized she had almost ripped it in half.

But she had to admit she saw him differently now. That was for sure. He wasn't just the cold heartless monster she always insisted he was. What he had done was so selfless, it shifted her whole perspective. If someone without a soul can sacrifice themselves for someone else can they also love?

It went against everything she had been taught, by Giles, the council, Angel. But all of them saw the world as good or evil, end of story. Everything was black or white.

But Spike kept throwing shades of grey into the mix. When both he and Angel were without a soul Angel was willing to destroy the world, but Spike wasn't. In the last several months he hadn't done anything outright evil. Even when he kidnapped her he did it as a romantic gesture, okay a twisted romantic gesture. But the fact that he didn't let Dru kill her despite the awful things she had said to him proved he didn't want to hurt her.

And that was probably a huge step for him. He's been living in vampire society for over a hundred years, he has to learn how not to be evil, how to be a man all over again.

She remembered berating him for wanting credit for not feeding off the victims of Olaf's rampage through the Bronze. Yes, it would have been ridiculous for a human to expect credit for something that they shouldn't, wouldn't, even contemplate in the first place. But for a vampire, especially one denied fresh human blood for months, that was probably a worse temptation than a kid in a candy shop.

No, if she were honest and grading his actions based on what she expected from a soulless vampire he was completely blowing the curve.

Was he doing it for her? Or was he truly changing? Or was he changing for her? She sighed as she stood and carefully picked up the refilled bowl. Whatever the reason for his behavior she had to give him credit for it.

She opened the crypt door and was surprised to find him sitting. He was hunched and shaking.

"What are you doing?" she scolded, rushing to him and setting the bowl down next to him.

"You were gone awhile. I wanted to make sure you hadn't been attacked."

"And if I had? In the shape you're in what would you have done?" She put her hands on her hips.

"Bleed on them?" he suggested. "Menacingly of course." He tried to puff out his chest to look tough but it sent him into a coughing fit.

"Very intimidating." She said rolling her eyes. She picked up the bowl and gestured for him to lie down.

"Hold on." he took the bowl from her and held it in front of him. Before she could even ask what he was doing he plunged his face into it. She gave a little shriek and jumped back as the water splashed out. She expected him to pull his head back out immediately, but he didn't, she bent and picked up the towel and stepped out of the splash radius. He kept his head under longer than a human could, since he didn't need to breath Buffy wondered if he planned to stay that way all night. Finally, she tapped on his shoulder.

He lowered the bowl, keeping his face level over it so it caught the dripping water. Placing one hand on the bottom of the bowl, she offered him a towel with the other. They managed the trade-off adeptly. He gingerly dried his face.

"Was I taking too long?" she asked as she set the bowl down.

"No, I just thought it would feel good. He gave a partial grin. "Besides I'm sure at one time or another you wished I would go soak my head."

"Or worse." She agreed. "Did it? Feel good?"

"Yeah"

"I should have brought an ice pack."

"No, you shouldn't have done any of this. It's more than I deserve after the robot." He wouldn't look at her, he sounded furious with himself. "It was..."

"Stop!" she shouted, her hand held out in front of her fingers splayed. Then more calmly as she slowly clutched her hand into a fist which she lowered to her side. "Nothing more about the robot. I've said what I needed to about it and it's over. We aren't going to mention it again."

"But..."

"No. No buts. What's done is done and we are moving on past it." She picked up the thermos. "More blood?"

He nodded, subdued. He took the offered cup and drank it quickly, but his distaste showed on his swollen features.

"It can't have gone bad so quickly." she looked at the thermos skeptically.

"Bad is relative when you're starting with pig blood. But it's getting cold."

"Maybe you should finish it before it gets any colder." She suggested he nodded again and she poured the rest into the cap. "Since when don't you like pig's blood?"

"Since forever." he said grinning before throwing back the rest of it and reaching for his bottle of whiskey.

"You never said anything." Setting the thermos back on the floor.

"Chained up in a bathtub I figured beggars can't be choosers." He started to shrug then winced. "Keeps me going though."

Wringing out the washcloth she was about to tell him to lie back down but stopped. Nodding at the slab she said. "That looks really uncomfortable. Is this where you sleep?"

"This or the floor, I've had worse. Course I usually put down some bedding first."

"Where is it?" she looked around.

He gestured over his shoulder behind the sarcophagus. "Wasn't feeling up to making the bed."

She walked around and found the stack of blankets, sheets and pillows.

"Okay, get up." she ordered.

"Slayer, you don't have to tuck me in. I'll do without."

"Nonsense, the better you sleep the faster you'll heal, the sooner you can help me kick hell-god butt. See completely selfish motives."

"Fine." He clenched his jaw and slid off the slab, biting back a curse when one leg went out from under him. If he weren't holding on he would have crumpled to the floor.

Buffy dropped the bedding and rushed to his side.

"What's wrong with your leg?" she asked, trying to help steady him.

"Hurt it. Either when she kicked me through the wall or when I fell down the lift shaft." He wasn't putting any weight on it but seemed stable. She let him go and quickly started fixing his makeshift bed. Putting down padding that looked like it came from coffins below a sheet.

"All right." she said in what she hoped was a take charge yet clinically detached tone. "Take off your shirt and pants."

Spike actually did a double take and then started laughing, which made him cough.

"What's so funny?" she asked annoyed.

"I knew I was dreaming."

"You're not dreaming."

"Then I must have heard wrong."

"No, I said take off your shirt and pants. I'm going to take care of those wounds too."

"Yeah, Slayer, I don't think that's a good idea." he hesitated.

"I'm a big girl Spike. I think I can handle you in your underwear." She realized what she said as his eyebrows were raising. "I don't mean literally handle. I can...cope with you in your underwear."

She snapped the blanket out to shield herself from his bemused smirk.

"Anytime pet." the amusement clear in his voice. "Only one problem, luv."

"What?" she busied herself adjusting his pillow.

"I'm not wearing underwear."

"Oh...Oooh!" she could feel her cheeks burn.

He took a moment to savor her discomfort then reached out and covered her hand. "Buffy, this has been wonderful. More than I ever expected. Just leave the basin and I'll do the rest myself."

She stared at their hands, his skin so cool against hers. She could take the easy way out, let him take care of his other wounds. But what kind of a wimp would that make her? Spike was able to stand up to Glory's torture for hours and she wasn't able to deal with this even for a few minutes? Heck, doctors and nurses were able to maintain their composure around nakedness. She was the Slayer, she could too. There's a blanket, she didn't have to see anything that would be considered embarrassing. Besides even if she did see something what difference would it make? She _wasn't_ interested anyway. She took a deep breath.

"No, I told you I'm going to do this. I'll turn my back while you get undressed. Then lie back down under the blanket."

"Buffy..." he started to protest.

"I'm not leaving, so your choice again is whether or not I knock you out."

"You're going to knock me out and undress me?" he asked skeptically.

"If I have to." She put her hands on her hips.

"You don't happen to have a video camera do you? Cause I'd pay to watch that over and over again." Even through his bruised and swollen lips she could see his tongue curled behind his teeth.

"Spike!" she yelled then took a deep breath. "We're 2 adults. This is a medical situation. I think we can act accordingly."

"So you want to play doctor is it?" she could hear the leer in his voice.

What the hell was wrong with him? He had been so contrite and embarrassed about the whole sexbot thing and now he was back to sleazy lines. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

He looked down at the blanket and she realized. "You are aren't you? Why?"

"Because it will be better if you leave." he mumbled, still not looking at her.

"No it won't. You need your injuries tended to. We don't even know what's wrong with your leg."

"It will be better after a good day's sleep."

"What if it's broken and it heals wrong?" she challenged. "Let's just get it over with."

"I can't." he was barely audible.

"Spike." It was half whine-half warning.

"Dammit Buffy! I physically can't reach my bloody boots to untie them!"

"Oh." Buffy didn't have to see his face to know how much ego that cost him. She walked around the stone coffin until she was next to him. "It's okay, I'll get them off.:

She started to squat down and he grabbed her arm. "I won't have you kneeling at my feet."

She let out an exasperated sigh, men and their pride.

"Compromise: Take of your shirt and undo your pants, then get under the blanket. I'll take off your boots while you're lying down, so no kneeling necessary. Then we can get your pants off. Okay?" She cajoled.

"I am not a child!" he yelled.

"I know you're not! You're the man who almost let himself be killed for me!" she yelled back.

He just stood there, staring at her in surprise. She waited for him to say something, when he didn't she reran the words in her head to see if she could figure out what caused this reaction. Not having a clue she finally asked. "What did I say?"

"You called me a man." his voice sounded tight.

"Yeah...?"

"You only ever called me that under Red's spell."

Had she? Thinking back she realized he was right. In the past it was always 'vampire' or 'monster' or 'soulless thing' and she had always meant it. But now?

"I guess maybe I was wrong about somethings." she paused then let slip a slight smile. "Like how easy it would be to get your pants off."

He smiled back. "Yeah, usually I'm a right trollop."

"So can we do this as painlessly as possible?" she pleaded.

"All right pet, turn your back."

She did staring at the darkened window, trying not to think about Spike undressing behind her. But the weirdness of the situation made it impossible. That and the sounds coming from behind her. First Spike sucked in air in pain, then she heard a ripping noise. She surmised that it was too painful for him to take off the t-shirt over his head so he tore it off. Then she could hear the jingle of his belt. He grunted as he hoisted himself back onto the tomb.

After a moment he said "Turn around."

He looked uncomfortable lying there. Not physically, but he seemed just as unsure as she was with the shift in their relationship. She gave him an awkward smile and then turned.

"Okay if I move this candle stand over?" Two candles just were not providing enough light.

"Redecorate away."

He was silent as she moved the heavy wrought iron candelabra to the side of his "bed" and started lighting all the candles. When done she turned to him and gasped. His entire abdomen was one ugly bruise.

"Oh my god! What did she do to you?" she hurried around to the other side and picked up the washcloth.

"That was my fault."

"How is this your fault?" She started wiping away the blood from his chest wounds.

"Part of my brilliant escape plan. She had me dangling from the ceiling by chains. I couldn't break them so I taunted her until she got mad and kicked me hard enough to break the chains and send me flying through the door."

"That was your plan?" she scoffed. "Remind me not to invite you to any strategy sessions."

"Worked dinnit? I got free."

"It looks like you almost got free of you internal organs." She shifted her attention from the cut on his chest to what looked like a puncture wound. "What did she stab you with?"

"Didn't, just poked her finger in and started wriggling it around."

"Her finger?" She lightly dabbed at the swollen edges of the hole. "Wait it looks like there's something in there."

"Press-on nail?" Spike asked flippantly.

"No." She bent and found the tweezers in the first aid kit. Straightening she reached across him and grabbed one of the candles, tucking it between his arm and his side. As she pulled all of her hair to the other side she said. "Don't let me catch my hair on fire."

"No worries." he assured her as he watched her profile.

Gently she pressed down on the periphery of the wound. He jerked slightly as he sucked in air.

"Sorry."

He nodded, his teeth clenched.

She tried to grab the bit of black she saw but it was still too deep. Gritting her own teeth, knowing this was going to hurt him, and surprised at how much that hurt her, she pulled apart the sides of the wound. His hands clenched into fists and his whole body tensed. But she could see her quarry clearly and managed to catch it with the tweezers. She tugged on it and it seemed to be attached to something bigger. She tried to pull it smoothly to keep it together but the piece she had separated from the whole. She held it up to the candlelight. She felt Spike relax.

"It looks like black cloth." She held it up so he could see.

"Probably from my shirt. She went through it."

"There's more of it in there..."

He took a deep, bracing breath. "All right, go for it, just do it quick."

"Okay." She turned back to the wound and took a deep breath. Knowing what she was after now she parted the wound as far as she dared with one hand while bringing the tweezers in. Not wanting to have to go in again, she didn't just grab the edge but moved the tweezers lower around the scrap of cloth. She had just gotten a firm grip on it and was beginning to pull when the candle went out. Even in her surprise she managed to keep hold of the tweezers and finished the operation.

"Why'd you put that out?" She asked as she turned her head. She realized Spike's hand was over the candle and her hair had fallen across it. "Oh, thanks."

She set down the tweezers and lifted his hand. "Are you burnt?"

"Barely singed." he said casually. "Please tell me you got it all."

"I think so." She inspected his hand. There was a burn mark where his fingers met his palm. She let it go and brought up the bowl. She placed his hand in it. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks." he moved his hand around in the cool water before pulling it out. She put down the bowl and picked up the towel, wrapping his hand in it gently. She turned it palm-side up. Carefully she blotted at the burn. Bending her head over it, she realized she was about to kiss it and stopped, making a show out of looking at it.

"It doesn't look too bad, especially compared to your other injuries. But you shouldn't have done it. You could have just warned me."

"No time, your hair was starting to fall. Couldn't let anything happen to something so beautiful." As he spoke he lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back behind her ear. Her breath caught and her eyes widened. It was such a loving gesture and his fingers on the shell of her ear sent tingles across her skin. She averted her eyes and shifted awkwardly. He pulled his hand back and clenched it. He appeared angry with himself and quickly changed to a light sarcastic tone. "Plus, I didn't want to interrupt you so you'd have to go digging again."

"Nope, no more digging." She replaced the candle in the stand and rewet the washcloth. "Let me just clean it up."

She quickly finished wiping the blood from that wound and a gash on his upper chest. She looked for other sites of bleeding but didn't find any. The amount of bruising worried her though. She lowered the washcloth to the bowl.

"Tell me if this hurts." She reached across him and pressed her fingers against a rib, following it up across his chest and down its counterpart on the other side.

"Looking for new spots to poke?" he asked bemused.

"No, broken ribs."

"And if you find any?"

"I'll wrap them, keeps them from moving when you breath."

"I don't have to breath." he pointed out.

"But you do breath, when you talk, when you smoke, when I do this." She lightly poked the finger wound and he sucked in air.

"Oi! Watch it!"

"See?"

"Yeah, I get it. But once I'm asleep I won't be breathing or smoking. And assuming I don't get a visit from you or Mengele, it'll be fine."

"Humor me." She insisted and he just huffed and rolled his eyes. With an exasperated shake of her head she continued. She had to admit, Spike was cut. Even with the bruising and swelling the muscles on his torso were perfect. She smiled and a little chuckle slipped out.

"What's so funny?" Spike asked, his voice unusually husky.

"The robot was right about something."

He grimaced. "God, please don't tell me you chatted with her."

"No, mostly I just bossed it around. But it did say, very enthusiastically, that I should...see you naked." She had started off with a joking tone but before she got to the end she realized how weird it was to be saying that as he lay there half-naked, her hands running across his chest. She pulled her hands away, clasping them behind her back and turned towards his feet. "Okay, I think your chest is fine. I mean your ribs, your ribs are okay."

"Buffy..." Spike began softly.

"You know... I'm just going to go get some fresh water." She picked up the bowl and headed quickly to the door, sloshing the water as she went. As she closed the door she said. "Be right back."

She put her back against the door and slumped down, letting the water spill from the bowl. Her mind raced. Oh my god, how, why did I say that? Am I insane? I mean sure Spike has a nice chest, but I've seen nice chests before. Riley had a nicer chest. Well bigger maybe, not necessarily nicer. An inner voice argued back.

She shook her head to banish such thoughts, pushed away from the door and stomped to the spigot. But her inner monologue would not be silenced. Even if he had the best chest on the planet, not that I'm saying he does, what was I thinking saying that – out loud – to Spike – while my hands were all over him?

Talk about mixed signals, he's going to think I want him now, which I _so_ do not. He was right, I shouldn't have played nurse, should have just left him to heal on his own. I should just leave now. Heck he probably thinks I've gone, scampered away in embarrassment. It would be the smart thing to do.

She looked down at the over-flowing bowl and bit her lip. But it wouldn't be the right thing to do. She had to finish what she started. Even though it meant * gulp * removing his pants and being in the same room with a completely naked Spike. Even with a blanket covering most of him, it seemed a daunting task.

She turned off the spigot and brought a double handful of water to her face. Even knowing it was coming, the cold was shocking. Which was just what she needed. She was the Slayer. She had gone up against the Master, Snake-demon Mayor, Adam, and was squaring off against a hell-god. It was stupid to be afraid of a wounded, naked vampire. She dried her face on her sleeve, picked up the bowl and headed back to the crypt.

He looked up when she came in but it was impossible to read the expression on his swollen face in the candle light. Please don't let him say anything snarky or suggestive or … anything about what just happened. She was going to pretend it didn't and hopefully he would follow her lead. She set the bowl down on the floor near his feet. He jumped when she untied the laces on his boot.

"Slayer you don't..."

"Spike if you say I don't have to do this one more time, I swear I am going to pummel you unconscious." she said with all the force she could muster.

He gritted his teeth but remained silent.

She sighed in relief and concentrated on unlacing his boot far enough so she thought she could get it off. She gave it a tug and he growled.

"Gah! I'd like to keep the foot if you don't mind."

"Sorry." she mumbled and loosened the laces some more. "These things are a pain. Why do you even wear them anyway?"

"Yeah, cause your footwear choices are based on logic and comfort."

Oh good a neutral topic, she silently cheered.

"I'll have you know that I have great shoes! Very fashionable!" She managed to slide his boot off and held it up. "Not like these. Did you pick them up in World War II?"

" _They_ are practical and go with the outfit. What do you expect me to wear? Wingtips?"

She chuckled inwardly at the mental picture but persisted. "They take forever to put on and off and weigh a ton. How is that practical?"

"When I'm up and kicking again I can give you a taste of how practical they are." he menaced. She rolled her eyes and dropped the boot, turning her attention to its mate. He continued, "Besides, they're way more practical than those wobbly, high-heeled, strappy fuck-me shoes you wear."

He paused when he realized what he said might take them back to uncomfortable territory, he quickly added. "It's a wonder you haven't broken your bloody ankle."

"I'll have you know that the only time I ever fall is on purpose. Nothing suckers in a demon like the stumble and trip routine."

He sighed reminiscently, "Yeah. After a good chase to get your appetite up, seeing your dinner lying there, blood pumping, scared, makes your mouth water."

She stared at him in disgust. "Or your stomach turn. That is terribly twisted." She pulled his boot off and dropped it to the floor.

He shrugged. "Just the nature of the beast. Wouldn't sound so bad if it was on the telly narrated by David Attenborough."

"Who?" she hardly ever knew who Spike was referring to.

"The bloke who does all the nature shows?" He looked at her for any sign of recognition, not finding any he demonstrated, his accent changing and his voice becoming a breathless whisper. "We are here in a major metropolitan area. Not the setting that usually comes to mind for a life or death struggle, but the preferred hunting ground for this week's predator – the vampire."

"Very educational." She murmured. Grabbing the hem of one leg of his jeans, she said, "Okay, I'm going to try to keep this from hurting too much, ready?"

"No, both legs at once. It's going to hurt whatever you do. I'd rather just get it over with."

"You're sure?" She knew he could take a lot, but she didn't want to do more damage.

"Yeah, hold on though." His arms disappeared beneath the blanket, then with a grunt of pain his hips thrust upward. Buffy surmised he was working his jeans lower to aid in the process. She was thankful that when his hands reappeared and he grabbed the edges of the slab to steady himself that he included the sides of the blanket in his grasp so it wouldn't shift either. "All right."

She grabbed both pant legs. "Okay, on the count of three."

He nodded, bracing himself for the pain.

"One.. Two..." She pulled hard, backing up in the process so she wouldn't twist his legs. He shouted through clenched teeth, his back arching in agony, then he lay limp gasping for unnecessary breath. She threw his jeans down and ran up to his head.

"Spike are you okay?"

"Not dust yet." he managed a weak grin. "Can you hand me the bottle?"

She looked around and found it quickly. She took off the cap and held it out to him as she used her other arm to prop him up so he could drink it. "Sorry it hurt so much."

"This wasn't for how much _that_ hurt." He took a long swallow. "This is for how much it's going to hurt when you set it. I'm pretty sure it's broken."

She looked at his legs as if she could see through the blanket. "Thigh or calf?"

"Thigh, just above the knee."

"Can you sit?" she asked pushing up on his back a little.

"Yeah." He pushed himself to sitting.

"Okay, finish the bottle. I'm going to find some wood to use as a splint."

He gestured toward the hole in the floor. "There are some planks down there."

"Okay, be right back." She grabbed a candle and descended the ladder. Looking around she was relieved to see that his shrine to her was gone. There were a lot of busted up coffins and she was able to find a couple of boards the right length fairly quickly.

When she got back up he was lying down again. The empty bottle on his chest.

"Better?" she asked as she braced the planks against the side of the sarcophagus.

"It won't really kick in right away, but it should take the edge off." He nodded his head toward the wood. "Find what you need?"

"I think so." She took the empty bottle and set it on the ground. Picking up the shreds of his t-shirt she ripped it into strips, then tucked one end into her pocket so she could grab them easily.

"Let's do this." She said with more confidence than she felt.

"In case I pass out, I just want to say thank you." He put his hand over hers and squeezed it softly.

She shifted her thumb up to the side of his hand and pressed in "You're welcome, really."

Seconds ticked by and neither moved, their eyes locked. Buffy thought she saw tears forming in his eye but he swallowed hard and pulled his hand away before resuming his usual bluster.

"All right, let's get this over with." He grabbed the sides of the slab.

She tried to speak and found she needed to clear her throat. "Okay."

She pulled back the corner of the blanket to reveal his leg. She gasped when she saw where the fracture was, a large bruise had formed and the edge of the bone was threatening to poke through the skin.

"How did you walk on this?" She asked as she delicately felt for the other side of the break.

"I don't think I did, if it happened when I fell down the shaft. I had just gotten to my feet when you and the boy showed up, then I collapsed. After the fight your friends dragged me here." He sucked in air as Buffy hit a tender spot.

"Sorry." She looked at him sadly. "There's no way this isn't going to hurt, a lot. Has the whiskey kicked in?"

"Don't worry about it, just do it." He tightened his grip.

She gave a determined nod and grabbed his upper calf with one hand while resting the other on top of the bone. With no further prelude she pulled sharply on his lower leg as she pressed down on the bone.

The satisfaction when she felt the two ends meet was short lived as his muffled grunt of pain turned into a feral roar as the agony brought out his demon. Immediately her Slayer instincts kicked in and she grabbed a board and pressed it down across him pinning his torso and arms.

"Spike!" she yelled as he struggled against her.

Her voice seemed to help snap him out of it. He collapsed back panting. After a moment he shook his head and his face became normal again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to lose control."

"You okay?" she asked still holding him down.

He nodded.

"Let me splint it so you don't redamage it."

The muscles in his jaw flexed, but he nodded again.

She slid one end of each of the strips under his knee then spread them out spaced along the leg. She put one board down on top of them next to his leg. "I have to pick your leg up and move it a little."

"Figured as much."

She took that as a go ahead and gently lifted his leg with both hands and shifted it over the plank. He let out a deep sigh when she lowered it.

"You definitely have a gift Slayer." he said jokingly.

She froze, how did Spike know what the first Slayer had told her? "My gift?"

"A gift for pain, whether you're fighting or nursing, you still have it."

"Oh." she picked up another piece of wood and lined it up along the inside of his thigh.

"Slayer, I was only joking, are you okay? You're as white as me."

"No...Yes...I'm not sure." She placed the third plank along the outside.

"What is it Buffy?" the concern in his voice was real.

"I went on a vision quest." Apparently this was news to Spike because he looked fairly surprised. "According to the spirit of the first Slayer death is my gift." She tied the top strip in a slip knot so it would hold the planks steady as she got the other ties tight.

"Death is what?"

"My gift." she grumbled. "I tried to tell her death wasn't a gift but she just kept repeating it."

"But it can be." he said softly.

"How can death be a gift? Are you trying to tell me Mom's death was just a late birthday present?" She pulled hard on the strip as she tied it, causing him to wince.

"Not then, no. But death was a gift for me. Dru killing me saved me from a life of mediocrity. Death was a relief from consumption for my mum. Every time you kill some nasty beasty its death is a gift to the people you save. All around the world people meet their own deaths to save others. Death can be the greatest gift, even if we don't see it at the time."

"I didn't think of it that way." She said slowly as she tied the last of the strips and tested the steadiness of the boards. "I was just so thrown so soon after Mom dying and everything. It just wasn't what I expected to hear."

"You never get a straight answer out of a spirit." he said dismissively. "Why did you go on a bloody vision quest anyway?"

"It was nothing. I guess I was being silly." She pulled the blanket back over his leg and fussed with arranging it, not looking at him.

He covered her hand. "Tell me."

"It... it was..." she pulled her hand away but turned to face him, leaning against the tomb.

"C'mon pet. Just between you, me and the stone walls. Dead men tell no tales you know."

"I was afraid that being the Slayer was taking away my ability to love."

He just stared at her for a minute then turned his head and looked at the ceiling. "You weren't being silly. You were being bloody thick."

"What?"

"Slayer, you are overflowing with love. Any fool can see that. The way you look at your lil sis, your friends, your Watcher, even that piece of cardboard you were dating."

"Riley never believed I loved him." She looked down at her hands, picking at the blanket.

"You loved him, you just weren't in love with him."

"There's a difference?"

"Hell yeah! Much as I hate to admit it you were in love with Angel. You lit up whenever he was around, sometimes with joy, sometimes with fury, but he was a part of you. Drove you crazy when he was near, even crazier when he wasn't because you knew a part of you was missing. With soldier boy, he was in your circle, you loved him, but the crazy wasn't there. Yeah, when you thought his life was in danger you stopped at nothing to try to save him but you'd have done that for any of your mates."

"Of course I would, but that doesn't mean he wasn't special to me." she protested.

He shook his head. "You knew it wouldn't last. He was too hung up on you being stronger than him. He wanted to be the big manly man and he wanted you to need him to take care of you. I could see it when he lost his super powers. He was looking for some way he could be the strong one. Didn't he keep offering you a shoulder to cry on while your mum was sick?"

"Yeah, but I kept pushing him away."

"No, you kept being strong; being you. You don't expect anyone to fight your battles." Spike shook his head slightly. "Anyone who wants you to change isn't in love with you. They're in love with some twisted idea of you."

"It's not twisted...maybe that's how I should be."

"You are how you should be. If he didn't see it then he was a complete wanker and not right for you."

"What if no one is?" she asked sadly. "I'm not perfect, what if I never find someone who likes me being stronger? Or is okay with the whole Slayer thing?"

He swallowed hard and turned away. She realized how thoughtless that was. He thought she had found it in him, but he wasn't going to tell her again, she had hurt him too deeply last time. Maybe too, through what he had just said he decided she couldn't love him because she couldn't accept him as he was.

She didn't know what to say that wouldn't hurt him more. She bent and picked up the water basin and carried it to the door. She tossed the water out and returned in silence. Drying the bowl she packed it back along with the towel and washcloths.

"I'll be back tomorrow with more blood." she said more to break the silence than relay that information. "Would you prefer cow over pig?"

He shrugged. "It's pretty much the same. Animal blood is animal blood. It keeps me going but doesn't do much else."

"It won't help you heal?" She looked at him as she tightened the lid on the thermos.

"Not much, I mean I'll heal faster than a human, but not as fast as another vampire. The demon wants, maybe needs human blood. I'm not as strong without it either." When he saw her worried expression he quickly added. "But you did a good job patching me up so it should be fine."

"Maybe I could see if my friend Ben can get some human blood. He works at the hospital."

He chuckled slightly and she could tell the whiskey was setting in. "And you're going to tell him what? Your vampire friend is a bit peckish."

"Can I buy it? Maybe at Willie's?"

"Can't trust his stuff, half the time it's orangutan blood, just labeled human."

"Is there anywhere?" she looked determined.

"The guy who works the blood bank on the weekend will sell it. Charges a fortune, but it comes from willing donors. Not that they know what they're donating for. It's a couple days away, I can make do with pig's blood until then."

"Okay, I'll get you some human blood then. But for now, here." She held out her wrist to him.

He lifted his hand to take whatever he was offering her and looked confused to find her hand empty. "Here what?"

She shook her arm in front of him. "Me, have some of my blood."

"Are you insane?" he asked as he pushed her arm away.

"No, I mean it. I need you healing now, not Friday." She moved her arm back in front of him.

His eyes focused on her wrist and he licked his lips before he shook his head and looked at her. "Buffy I shouldn't."

"Yes, you should. I want you to. If any of my other friends were hurt and needed it I'd donate blood. It's the same thing." she reasoned.

"It bloody well isn't and you know it!"

"Why not?" She still hadn't moved her arm and he was pointedly avoiding looking at it.

"For one thing, there's no chance the nurse is going to drain you dry. I can't guarantee that I won't. I can't, not with Slayer's blood."

"Why not with my blood?"

"You can't have forgotten what I told you about the first time I killed a Slayer." he looked surprised.

"I thought you were just trying to get a rise out of me." He had said so many things that seemed designed to piss her off the night they sat at the Bronze as he recounted his previous victories, she had just assumed he was being gross on purpose.

"I was, but it was also true. Slayer's blood is potent, like pure lifeforce. I drained that girl until there was nothing left. Can't promise I won't do the same to you."

"If it's that strong you should definitely have some."

"Did you miss the whole me killing you possibility? Cause I thought I stressed that." he replied sarcastically.

"No, I heard it. But you won't." she said confidently. When he started to protest she cut him off. "No, first of all, look at you. You're so beaten up you couldn't take me now if you wanted to. Secondly, I don't think the chip will let you. And finally, I think how you...feel about me will stop you."

He looked surprised and she knew it was the first time she hadn't referred to his feelings as something he thought he felt. She acknowledged them as real. At the questioning look in his eye she gave a slight smile. He wrapped the fingers of one hand gently around her forearm and covered her hand with the other.

"I can't bite you." His voice was soft and husky. When she looked annoyed he smiled slightly and added. "Like you said, the chip."

"Oh, sorry." she pulled her hand away and he seemed to relax. She knew he thought that had won him the argument. She squatted and pulled the bandage scissors out of the first aid kit. Standing, she put the blade to her wrist. "Here."

"Buffy don't!" he yelled reaching for her hand, but she was too quick and she opened a slit across her wrist. His eyes widened for a moment and then he scrunched them closed and turned his head.

"Slayer get out!" he said through clenched teeth.

"Spike stop being stubborn, just drink it." She held out her wrist with the other hand cupped beneath it to catch the dripping blood.

"Go! Please! Before I change." he was breathing hard.

"You changed like 10 minutes ago, it doesn't scare..."

As if on cue his face changed and he growled as he yanked her arm roughly to his mouth. It threw her off balance but she kept from falling. Reflexively she tried to pull her arm back but he held it with more strength than she expected based on his condition. Her increased heart rate betrayed her words. She was scared. Only partly for herself, she knew she could stop him. No, she was worried about what she might have to do to him to make him stop.

She forced herself to calm down, knowing he could sense fear and that it would only goad his demonic nature on. He hadn't bitten her, hadn't even tried he was just sucking hard on the wound. She could feel the pull on her blood, but she knew the cut would heal before he caused any serious blood loss. As she relaxed he seemed to as well. She could tell when the cut was closing as he started pulling harder and his tongue tried to force the wound open. When that failed he just slowly licked her wrist.

He froze, opened his eyes -was she imagining it or was the swelling less?- and looked at her in horror. He pushed her arm away and lowered his eyes. "Sorry, didn't want to lose control like that. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No, I'm fine and you just did what I wanted you to. Besides, I've seen you in game face before." He didn't raise his eyes.

"Yeah... before..." he repeated an odd bittersweet tone in his voice. He shifted, and bent his good leg at the knee, tenting the blanket. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Here, you might as well have this too." She held out the hand that had caught the drops of blood while she was convincing him to feed.

He looked at her hand and a shudder ran through him. "God, Slayer, your blood is..."

"Is what?" she asked apprehensively.

"The best thing I've ever tasted."

"Um... Thanks?"

He propped himself up on one elbow and gently took her cupped hand. As he stared at the blood a variety of expressions crossed his bruised features. He obviously wanted to drink it but something was holding him back. He looked angry at himself and profoundly sad as if he had just lost something precious. With a defeated sigh he murmured. "I am just a vampire after all."

He brought her hand up slowly and tilted it slightly so it covered his mouth. His tongue flicked out and lapped up the blood. Only then did he close his eyes in obvious pleasure. She stood there uncomfortably. This seemed different from just a few moments ago. That was a vampire feeding., but this seemed more personal, more intimate. His tongue, having finished the small pool of blood, began tracing the creases of her palm trying to get every drop. She was surprised when she found it arousing, extremely arousing. She bit her lip to keep from making any noise that may give away her reaction.

Okay today had been too full of weirdness. First she gets a visit from great-grandma Slayer, then she comes face to face with the Buffybot, finds out Spike is willing to lay down his life for her, she feels compelled to play nurse, and now he's giving her wrong tingly feelings as he drinks blood from her palm. How could she be turned on by anything Spike did?

Just yesterday she found him repulsive but within the last couple of hours he seemed anything but that. She let her eyes travel down his body, battered and bruised though it was it was still gorgeous. The blanket had worked its way down to his waist, letting her again admire his sculpted torso. As her eyes scanned him she discovered that his knee was not the only thing that had risen beneath the bedding. She realized he probably put his knee up to hide this reaction to her blood. She blushed and turned her head back to his face.

It was obvious that there was no more blood in her hand. For one thing, there wasn't that much to begin with. For another the movement of his tongue was no longer questing but a slow, light tracing of some mystical pattern that was casting a sexual spell over her. She really had to leave. She opened her mouth to speak and realized her voice would be very husky if the tried to talk now. Seizing the opportunity she took a deep breath and cleared her throat loudly.

"Ahem!" she hoped that came across as annoyed, she would be mortified if he knew how she really felt. "Can I have my hand back please? I'm kinda attached to it."

His eyes opened languidly and he attempted to look sheepish, but the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth ruined the effect.

"Sorry pet." He didn't sound sorry. "Afraid I was getting a bit attached to it too."

His eyes were a little glazed. She wondered if it was from the whiskey or her blood. He still had not let go of her hand. When she tugged slightly he tightened his grip and lowered his mouth to her palm again. Her breath caught, but he tenderly kissed it, then turned it over and kissed the back of her hand before releasing it..

She blushed at the old-fashioned gesture and mumbled "Thanks."

He shook his head and chuckled as he lowered himself back down.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"You slash _your_ wrist and let me drink _your_ precious life blood and you thank me."

"All right, maybe that was a little silly but I didn't have to fight you to get my arm back. You were able to control yourself."

"Hardly." he scoffed, looking disgusted with himself.

"Not hardly, you didn't even turn there at the end."

"Let's just settle on thanks all around then." he sounded a little sarcastic and avoided looking at her.

"Okay." she stood uncertainly for a moment, fighting the urge to kiss his cheek or tuck him in. Finally she picked up her backpack. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"No pet, I'm fine."

She reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Then turned and headed for the door. She glanced back as she closed it. He was staring after her, the same indecipherable look as earlier. She grasped for something to say. At a loss, she murmured "Sweet dreams." then quickly pulled the door shut and rolled her eyes at her own lameness.

"Oh boy." she mumbled as she walked away.


End file.
